Camp Pellinor
by Snb793
Summary: Half-bloods have always existed, right? So they must have existed in Maerad and Hem's time as not so normal humans. They have no idea, none of them, that the gods are real. Or, maybe one of them does. Birds of a feather flock together.


"Dorn! It's mine!" Saladin cried. "Give it here!" Saladin was new to their _gang_, as they called it. Everyone there was human, not Bards, but they weren't normal either. They saw things others didn't. Not even Bards saw the evil monstrous things that attacked them. They had about 15 in the group right now. Of course, there was more than one.

"No. I shan't give you the sword. I'm the one who gave it to you, I can take it away", Dorn threatened. Saladin sighed. Dorn was the oldest here and he could do what he liked. He led them into battle, fed them, bathed them.... Everything. He basically kept them alive.

"It'll be your fault if the foul beasts tear my limbs off". She grumbled as she stomped off. She, having attention issues, was distracted from her anger.

"Oh my God! It's a squirrel!" Saladin yelled. She pointed to a fuzzy brown thing with evil, beady eyes and crooked yellow teeth. In its mangy paws, it clutched a shiny yellow orb that glistened in the sun.

"Where?" Dorn asked, drawing the sword he had taken away from her moments earlier. Squirrels were rare, and very tasty, and when times were tough, like they were now, killing and eating _something_ was important. He rushed to her side.

"Over there!" she pointed into the brush, where it rattled and quivered with the animals retreat. He silently stalked over to a bush, pointing the shimmering blade at the very center.

Suddenly, a blood curdling shriek filled the clearing as the rabid monster charged at Dorn. Foam crusted it's filthy mouth and it's brown fur was oily and matted. It's tiny eyes seemed to glow red as it sprang off the ground, launching itself at Dorn's throat, droplets of spittle flinging onto its back.

Then.... it vanished.

Shaking, Dorn returned to Edward and Sloan his two closest friends and the two next eldest boys in the group.

"Nice work, Dorn," Edward snickered. "It's exactly what we expect from our _fearless_ leader."

"Be quiet! Both of you!" He snapped. His friends' smiles faded, as he closed in on them, a serious furrow marring his brow. He looked quickly back at Saladin, his eyes becoming narrow black slits, as he began a deep discussion with the other two most senior boys in the camp.

"Saladin, go talk to your friends... Amelia and What's-her-face" he sneered.

Obeying, but only because that's where she was going in the first place, she walked up to her best friends, Renée and Amelia. She began to tell them of what transpired only minutes before.

"...and then he took my sword away!!! The nerve!" Saladin exclaimed. She was extremely hyper at the moment, so her friends were rolling their eyes at her.

"You've said that about seventeen times..." Renée told her. Amelia just shook her head. Her short auburn hair brushed against her jaw.

"Saladin! Why did you just let him take it?" Amelia asked. Saladin shrugged. Her hazel eyes began to glow with anger. "He's such a bully!"

"I don't know. Hey look! The sun's setting! They're probably starting dinner! Let's go!" She was obsessed with pork. So, she babbled out how she was going to invent thin strips of it and call it 'bacon'.

Her friends didn't mind. She did that sort of thing every night. Last night, it was something called pie.

Instead of gossiping about people, she hated when people did that, she would tell legends. They were about two siblings, Maerad and Hem. When she spoke of them her eyes filled with sadness. She'd never talked about why, so her friends had never asked.

"And so there they were!" Saladin continued off the end of yesterday's tale. "In the middle of the desert, with a kid our age, about 12. He could've been a spy for all they knew! But his terror seemed true, and Maerad always trusted before mistrusting, so they took him under their wing. Soon after, black bards began to follow."

There was an audible gasp from the crowd. It was followed by laughter.

Many of the adolescents in their gang ate this stuff up, because it was forbidden to tell legends such as these in the 'peaceful world'

"Suddenly...."

"Saladin!"

Saladin was cut off by somebody shouting her name in the distance. It repeated over and over again, like a mocking bird- or a parrot.

"Saladin!" She thought she recognized the voice, though she couldn't place who it belonged to.

"Are you here? Saladin!? It's been two weeks! You _need_ the prophecy! You were to receive it when you ran away!" The voice sounded desperate.

"Er, sorry. I guess I'll have to tell some more tomorrow", Saladin apologized.

Saladin jumped from her seat on the log, abandoning the fire, and rushed toward the voice from her past.

"Saladin!" The voice cried happily. "The Prophecy! Come. You need the prophecy..." Everyone around the fire heard something fall and a word in another language. They all understood it. Saladin was beginning to get hysterical. She reached for her sword, but Dorn had taken it away.

_Oh God! I'm going to die!_ she thought.

"Uh, what is going on?" Renée demanded. She appeared suddenly beside Saladin, clutching her crescent shaped hair pin that opened up into a silvery bow and arrow.

"How should I know?" Saladin squeaked. A huge shadow fell over them. And...young girl about the age of five years old appeared in front of them. Saladin noted that her clothing was strange; it was covered in many bright colors with some white peaking from under all of the swirling colors. Saladin was staring at the fabric, taking in every detail when she heard herself say...

"What are you _wearing!?" _she exclaimed. "Oh, uh, sorry. Who are you? How do you know me?" How do _I _know _you?_ she asked herself.

"I'm wearing tie-dye. And, I am the Oracle of Delphi." What the heck was an Oracle of Delphi?

Somehow, as if hearing her thoughts, Amelia asked, "What is an 'Oracle of Delphi'?" She stared perplexingly at the girl's clothes in comparison to her rags. "That's messed up..." she mumbled.

"Yeah..." Saladin muttered back.

"_The_ Oracle of Delphi is a mortal with a prophet's spirit that gives prophecies when needed. And right now I have one for you!" That was one smart five year old. Her smile was enchanting, it seemed as though it reached all the way to the corners of her violet colored eyes.

"Okay, why would _I_ have a prophecy? Why is there an oracle? Do you know why all those terrible monsters attack us?" Saladin pressed. Her friends were silent. Somewhere nearby there was an occasional squeal and the sound of metal clanging against metal.

"Your friends... They're kind of-" the girl replied as she surveyed the small cluster of girls that surrounded her. All three were dressed in worn out brown rags. The tallest one had blonde hair pulled back and secured in a tortoise-shell clip. Her blue grey eyes were the color of the necklace that the other girl was wearing, and they stared at her with a look of distrust. The girl focused on Saladin, not answering any of the questions.

_We'll, that's just wonderful! _Saladin thought, noticing the young girls lack of response.

Saladin spun quickly, and put herself in a position that was ready to run. Her eyes were closed, and when she opened them, she saw---

* * *

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